


Temptation, Like a Drum

by escritoireazul



Category: Lost Boys (1987)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Five Times, M/M, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 03:03:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2835650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escritoireazul/pseuds/escritoireazul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Michael falls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Temptation, Like a Drum

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeCarabas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeCarabas/gifts).



“I know what I am now, Sam,” Michael says, and he’s out the window and gone before his brother stops gaping.

i.

Star smells – delicious. She’s fresh from the shower, and Michael licks water from the hollow of her throat, the dip of her clavicle, the line of her stomach. She sprawls on the bed heedless of her damp skin, legs spread wide, and he sinks down between them, setting his teeth at her hip.

There are no fangs between them.

Not yet.

“Michael,” she sighs and strokes her fingers into his hair. He glances up at her, along the line of her body, skin bronzed from hours in the sun. She cannot keep away from it, now that she’s strong enough to stay awake during the day. It’s hard, remaining a half vampire, and sometimes her thirst drives her into fits. She’s shredded his flesh before, nearly decapitated Paul for cracking a joke at the wrong time, beat the rock wall until she’s laid open her fists to the bone, but it’s worth it, she says. Worth it to walk that line between monster and woman.

Worth it to walk in the sun.

When the sun shines, she’s outside, stripping down layer after layer, until her skin is bare. She worships the sun now, and smells like it always: warm skin, sunlight, sand, and sea.

Michael buries his face in her, sets teeth and tongue to her clit, curls his fingers inside. She’s warm and wet, and he can feel the thrum of her pulse against the pads of his fingers. That part of her’s human still, beating heart, breath in her lungs.

He is more monster than man, but still Star opens before him, bares herself, all her vulnerable places. Holds him close as she breathes in, breathes out, and oh, her heart pounds.

ii.

“You’re a vampire, Michael!” Sammy cries. “My own brother, a goddamn shit-sucking vampire! You wait ‘til Mom finds out, buddy.” He runs off, runs away, and he smells like musty comic books, incense, fear. Michael has to breathe deep, in count to four, out count to four, so he won’t follow, fangs bared.

He’s not even sure how to drop his fangs, but anger – hunger – something will do it.

Michael’s at the cave before he knows it, pacing along the edge of the cliff. The stairs stretch down before him, shrouded in mist, wood soaked through. He can smell the rot inside. It’s falling apart, but you can’t tell just by looking at it.

“ _Michael_.” David’s voice comes like the wind off the sea, swirls around him, fog stirring.

He’s not sure how long he’s been standing there, shivering, when David appears right in front of him, cheeks flushed. He’s fed. There’s blood in his throat, a smear at the corner of his lips. Before Michael knows what he’s doing, he lunges forward, kisses it away.

 _One of us_ comes like a whisper, but he’s too busy stripping off David’s clothes, dropping the long leather coat onto the ground, peeling off his shirt, baring pale skin mottled with old scars. Human scars. 

Man before monster.

Michael drops to his knees, fingers jerking at the button at the top of David's fly, and takes David in his mouth, heady, musky, rich on his tongue.

iii.

The moon is full, but nearly obscured by the clouds. There’s a storm blowing in. As soon as the wind hit off the water, the temperature dropped and people started heading home. The Boardwalk’s nearly empty now, and they have the carousel pretty much to themselves.

Michael is squished between Star and David in one of the Roman chariots. They’re mostly hidden in shadows. He doesn’t know how he ended up there, but he can’t get his mind together enough to care. David works his fly open, wraps a cold hand around his dick. Star’s mouthing his throat, mostly tongue, sometimes teeth, and touching herself, one hand busy under her skirt. David’s pressed tight at his side, thrusting a little against his thigh. They touch him, themselves, each other, and the carousel turns and turns, shadows and garish neon lights, until Michael can’t see straight.

He shouts as he comes, and David swallows it with a kiss.

iv.

Star’s standing close enough he can smell her perfume, sweet floral, something musky beneath it. First breath, he thinks it’s almost sour, wrinkles his nose, but then the breeze catches them, saltwater and funnel cakes, and she spins into him, skirt swinging around his legs, hair soft against his arm. She smells wonderful. He wants to press his nose to her neck, breathe her in, flick his tongue across the hollow of her throat, see if she tastes as good as she smells.

She smiles at him, small, secretive, and for a moment, he’s certain she knows exactly what he’s thinking.

His ear throbs, just a little, from the new piercing. She reaches up and tweaks it, makes it hurt a little more, and that jolt goes straight to his dick. Her smile goes sly, and she glances down, so quick he’s not really sure he saw her do it.

“Sta-ar.” David’s voice is sing-song, but still has a rough edge to it. She squeezes Michael’s ear hard, turns. “You’re not supposed to go off alone.”

Her laugh is light, but there’s something hard to the set of her jaw. “Like I’d get up to anything in the middle of these crowds.”

“Hmm.” David circles them slow, and Michael can nearly feel the weight of his gaze. He leans in close, and when he speaks, the puff of his breath against Michael’s skin is a kiss. “That’s a shame.”

v.

Dirt slicks Michael’s fingers, smears along his temple when he wipes sweat out of his eyes. Phoenix smells like exhaust, hot asphalt, and chlorine. Michael drops his weights into the car, and heads back inside to grab another box. His mom rushes them along, and Sammy’s fussing over his collectibles.

There’s a crumpled envelope shoved in Michael’s back pocket. He hasn’t read it yet, saving it for the drive. Sammy’ll fall asleep, Mom will be focused on the road, and Michael will read it, stretched out alone across the back seat, feet pressed against one door, shoulders against the other. There’s a mix tape to go with it, already in the car with his Walkman and a couple books.

Michael’s already said his good-byes, away from his family, ‘cause he’s not really out to them yet. He doesn’t bring his boyfriends home. Doesn’t bring his girlfriends home, either. Not like it matters.

It was a good night. Dinner with his friends at their favorite local diner, burgers and shakes and sodas spiked with cheap vodka, warm beer at a house party after. Some of them promised to write. He bets they won’t. Snuck out for awhile with his boyfriend, frantic handjobs behind the garage, sloppy kisses, and the letter he hasn’t yet read.

“But _Mom_!” Sammy’s voice rises outside, and Michael grunts a little as he grabs two more boxes, so heavy the seams strain. It’s impossible, shoving three people’s lives into one small space. He’ll miss Phoenix. He’ll miss his things. He’ll even miss his dad, at least the way he was before he turned into a shit.

Michael thumps out of the house, heavy steps, and squints against the sun.

California, land of sunshine and saltwater and movie stars, here he comes.


End file.
